Marriage Counseling
by Bookworm102010
Summary: Sherlock and Joan go undercover as a married couple to solve a missing persons case.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Joan, Sherlock, could you step into my office, please?" Gregson asked as the pair's feet crossed the threshold of the NYPD.

He closed the door behind them and gestured for them to sit down before taking the seat behind his desk.

"I have a new case for you two," he said, pulling out a file from his desk.

"Have either of you ever heard of Oak Hill?"

Sherlock and Joan looked at each other before shaking their heads.

"It's a retreat for couples having problems in their marriage. Well, recently a woman named Natalie Walker disappeared the night she and her husband arrived. That was Friday."

"And you want us to go up there and find her?" Joan asked.

"Yes, but it's a bit more complicated than that. See, we can't have anybody up there knowing that you work for the police."

"So…you want us to go undercover?" Joan asked.

"Yes."

"So, what will are aliases be?" Sherlock inquired.

"Uh…" Gregson grinned and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

_The next day…_

"I hate him. I actually hate him," Joan grumbled as the cab drove them up to the mansion.

"A case is a case," Sherlock replied, thumbing through the case file.

"Tell me about our missing girl."

"She's twenty-five, a graduate of Yale University. She and her husband just got married two weeks ago. Get this…he thought they were having problems after three days, so their spending their honeymoon in marriage counseling."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Yeah they went on two dates, and he proposed on the second."

"Well, no wonder they were having problems! They barely knew each other!"

"We're here," the cabbie called back to them. "Do you need help with your bags?"

"No thanks," Joan said. She opened the door and climbed out, stretching her arms above her head. After having been trapped in a car for two hours, her limbs were either cramped or numb.

She grabbed their bags from the trunk while Sherlock paid the driver.

"Have a nice day," he said before peeling down the drive.

They watched him until he drove out of sight before looking at each other. Joan sighed.

"Let's get this over with."

They walked toward the porch where a blonde, cheery woman was waiting for them.

"You must be Mr. and Mrs. Holmes! Welcome to Oak Hill!"

_In counseling…_

"Welcome to our little journey through marriage. My name is Helen Somora, I'll be your guide. Why don't we take a minute to introduce ourselves."

Helen hadn't stopped smiling since Sherlock and Joan had arrived, nor had she stopped speaking in that high, happy voice.

"Why don't we start with you two," she said, pointing to a young couple sitting right next to her.

The woman was short and petite with red hair, while her husband was tall and lanky with short, curly black hair.

The woman cleared her throat and began.

"My name is Kate Sanderson, and this is my husband, Bill Watterson."

"Mm-hm. Now, I notice that you two don't have the same last name. Why is that?"

"Oh, that is due to Kate's feminine mother. Yeah, she thinks that if Kate takes my last name, that means that I'm a control freak."

"Don't bring my mother into this, Bill!"

"You can't deny that she causes problems for us!"

"God, this is typical! You just can't take the blame for anything, can you? It's always someone in my family, isn't it? You know, we've been having some money problems, so my father very kindly offered him a job, and he refused to accept it because of his goddamned pride!"

"All right, let's just calm down. We are not here to fight," Helen said, raising a hand for everyone to stop talking.

"Dear God, somebody shoot me," Sherlock mumbled under his breath.

"What was that Mr. Holmes?" Helen asked, turning her smiling face in his direction.

"Nothing, nothing," Sherlock replied quickly.

"Why don't you tell us about you and your lovely bride?"

"Um…okay. Well, we've been married for about six years," Sherlock said, reciting the story Gregson had given them. "We started having problems about a year ago when she started…you know." He said, making the drinking symbol with his hands.

"Excuse me?" Joan cried indignantly.

"Oh, don't deny it honey, this is a safe place!" he said, grabbing her hand.

"Well, what about you and…and your obsession with…with…your ex-wife!" Joan cried out dramatically, wrenching her hand from his grasp.

"Ex-wife? You've been married twice?" Helen asked.

"Yes, yes he has! And she's all he talks about! He's even gone so far as too…compare us," she said, choking back a "sob".

"Oh, Mr. Holmes. Your wife is hurting. Why don't you comfort her."

Just as Sherlock was begrudgingly putting his arm around Joan, a man burst into the room, hair disheveled and eyes wild.

"It's Natalie! She's…she's dead!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Three hours later, Andrew Walker was sitting on the plush, red couch in the den with his head in his hands while Helen spoke in a soothing voice to him.

Joan walked up to him.

"Mr. Walker? I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. That's very kind of you," Andrew said, brushing his hair out of his red, watery eyes.

After Andrew's crazy declaration, everyone in the room had immediately run to his bedroom to find young, blonde woman lying on the floor, a scarlet puddle spread out around her head.

The police had shown up fifteen minutes later. Her body was removed after two hours.

While Sherlock left to alert Gregson that the missing persons case had turned into a homicide, Joan stayed with Andrew, Helen, Kate, and Bill and listened to the rest of the story behind Natalie's disappearance.

"It was about 10 o' clock. We had been fighting, and she stormed out. She said she was going for a walk, she wanted to clear her head. That was the last time I saw her. To think that the last words we said to each other…we said in anger." At that point, he broke down and sobbed into his hands.

Joan stood up. "I'm going to go find my…husband," she said, uttering the last word through clenched teeth.

She grabbed her bag and left.

_In the dining area…_

Joan found Sherlock sitting at the long, oak dining table, flipping through a leather bound book and drinking a glass of water.

"What are you reading?" Joan asked, sliding into the chair beside him.

"The diary of Joseph Beauregard. When this house was originally built in 1849, it belonged to him. Apparently, he moved out to California during the Gold Rush, struck it rich, came home, and built this place."

"Wow, really?" she leaned over to peer at the writing.

"Yeah. I found a book on him in the library, too. In one chapter, it says that a year after the house was finished, he started to go a little…insane. The book says that this was due to the fact that in the summer 0f '49, a cave in killed several miners, including his business partner, Frank Goodson."

"God, that's awful," Joan said. They read a few more pages into his journal, but were soon interrupted by Helen.

"Well, isn't that just the sweetest thing! You two…reading a book, together, no fighting," she said, smiling brightly.

They chuckled nervously, glancing at each other.

Helen laughed with them, and then suddenly smacked herself in the forehead.

"Oh, shoot! I just remembered that I haven't shown you two lovebirds your room! Come with me!" she said, walking out of the room.

"She has that really calm demeanor that says 'serial killer' to me. They just found a dead body, and she's smiling like she won the lottery!" Joan whispered, closing the journal and putting it in her purse.

"What are you doing with that?" Sherlock asked.

"I want to keep reading it. Come on, let's go see our room."

Helen led them up a grand staircase, down a hallway lined with plush, red carpet, and into a room with the numbers 131 posted on the door.

Joan had to admit, it was beautiful. The carpet matched the one in the hallway, and the wall was paneled in dark oak. The bed was covered in a soft, rose colored comforter and the head board had a leaf pattern etched into it.

Two doors led to either the closet or bathroom, and a third led to a balcony overlooking the garden.

"Nice," Joan said, and Sherlock nodded in agreement.

"Dinner is at seven." She patted Joan's shoulder. "And just so you know, there will be wine. Stay strong honey." She smiled and left Joan staring daggers at a laughing Sherlock.

"You are such a jerk."

"Oh, yeah? What about this ex-wife I'm supposedly obsessed with?"

Joan ignored him and flopped onto the bed.

"God, I'm exhausted," she groaned.

"I'm gonna grab a shower before dinner," he said, throwing his bag on the floor and going into the bathroom.

Joan waited until she heard the water running before opening the French doors leading to the balcony and stepped outside.

She took a deep breath, relishing the fresh air. She loved the Big Apple, but they just didn't have air like this back home.

She looked down at the garden below her. She saw a dozen different types of flowers, and a dozen more she couldn't name. She saw roses, violets, azaleas, bluebells, daisies, sunflowers, etc.

She closed her eyes and breathed…

"Watson! Watson!" Sherlock was shaking her awake.

"Wha-,"

"It's time for dinner. You dozed off."

"Oh," Joan groaned, brushing a hand through her hair.

"Come on."

They left for dinner, having no clue what the next two days would be like.


End file.
